Page 43 of Don't Speak
I turn the truck off, get out, and walk around to her side. Opening the door, I unbuckle her seatbelt and pull her out, cradling her in my arms bridal style. She doesn’t stir. Once I make it to the door, I use the hand tucked under her legs to unlock the door and walk inside. I kick it closed with my foot, taking her straight to the bed. I lay her down, removing her shoes and her dress before covering her with the blanket. Quietly, I exit the room, turning the light off as I go.
I walk back out to my truck, grabbing my laptop from the back seat. Heading inside, I turn and lock the door, walk over to the couch, and sit down, placing the laptop on the coffee table. It’s been a minute since I’ve checked my email. I told David to send me anything he’s found through there since I’ve been spending time with Nikki. I didn’t want my phone going off frequently and her starting to question things.
As soon as I log in, I notice an email from David that was sent earlier this morning.
Hey Dean,
I came across this article this morning. It looks like Nikki’s mom is missing. Neighbors heard screams and called the police to check on her. When they arrived, she was gone, and the house was trashed. I figured you would want to know. Still no word on Sean.The police are still on the hunt. I’ll let you know if I find anything else.
-David
David attached a link to the article in the email. It confirms what he stated. Dana has been missing since this morning, and the authorities don’t have any leads. There were several empty alcohol bottles smashed on the ground, and they found some narcotics. They’re leaning toward it being a drug-related crime. She’s been gone since early this morning, around 4am.
The timing seems to be a bit suspicious. Considering Sean wasn’t at the cabin when I paid a visit, I wonder if he’s behind it. If he’s going after Dana, I can only assume Nikki is next. I have to tell her what’s going on, and I have to find him—now.
Just as I think that, Nikki pads out of the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Hey. I got worried when I didn’t feel you in the bed. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, quickly closing the laptop. “Everything is fine, baby. Just checking my email before heading to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She turns on her heels, heading back into the room. My thoughts spin for a few moments before I get up, shoving the laptop into its bag and placing it under the coffee table. I look back one last time as I reach the door to the bedroom, knowing this could be the last night I spend with her depending on the results of tomorrow. I don’t know how she’s going to react, and it unnerves me. I don’t want to hurt her. I wince at the thought, my heart twinging in my chest. Hurting her is going to crush me. I hate that I waited this long, regret rising in my body. There was just never a right time. I should have trusted her enough to tellher, and then we could have figured this out together. But I have to live with the choices I made. I just have to believe that deep down inside, she knows that my feelings for her are real.
I turn back and walk into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Sliding in, I shuffle close to her, wrapping an arm over her waist and pulling her against me. I breathe in her scent, taking all of her in, hoping this won’t be the last time I get to hold her.
“I love you, too, little lioness,” I whisper softly. But her soft snores tell me she’s already asleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
My eyes flutter open, meeting nothing but darkness. Dean lies next to me, his breath shallow. I roll over, checking the time on my phone. It’s 4am, and I am dying of thirst. Quietly, I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb Dean. Simba lies at his feet, not bothering to follow me as I walk out the door and quietly close it behind me. Those two have gotten close lately. It’s cute, actually.
I make my way to the fridge, grabbing a glass from the cabinet. I forgo my need for ice, pushing the dispenser button for water. I don’t usually drink water without ice, but I’ll make an exception tonight so as to not wake Dean. There’s somethingpeaceful about a quiet house. Being awake while everyone else sleeps. There’s a calm sereneness to it. It’s almost easier to think.
My eyes bolt to the coffee table, curiosity clawing at this lioness a bit. Dean was acting a bit strange earlier, wasn’t he? Come to think of it, it’s been almost two weeks since his apartment flooded, and I haven’t heard anything about it. Amelia’s warnings dance across my mind, and a sinking feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. Placing the water glass on the kitchen counter, I move over to the couch, searching around it for his laptop. I just have this odd feeling.
Getting on my hands and knees, I feel around under the couch for the bag I know he keeps it in. Coming up empty, I move under the coffee table, patting my hand around until, finally, I hit something. I grab and pull, revealing the black laptop bag. Kind of an odd place to keep it for someone with nothing to hide.
I unzip it, pulling out the sleek grey laptop. I open it, only to be met with a lock screen.Shit.I type in a few key details I know about him, starting with his birthday. Denied. Okay, his sister’s name. Denied. His sister’s birthday. Denied.Jesus Christ.How complicated can a man be? I think for a moment. Going out on a limb, I try my birthday. Success.
As soon as the home screen appears, I get to work perusing. I’m not usually the snoopy kind. In fact, I loathe going through my partner’s belongings, opting to trust them unless otherwise given a reason not to. His reaction earlier was my reason. I’ve learned to rely on my intuition a lot, and it’s never let me down.
I start easy, opening the email app. Most of it seems to be junk, but there are several emails from a man named David. One of those emails is titled, “You need to see this.” Opening it, I read over the text. My heart sinks. This email states that my mother is missing. Is this a joke? There’s a link to an article attached, so I open it, and sure enough, it talks about my mother, whoapparently went missing yesterday morning. Why didn’t he tell me? Why haven’t I been notified?
I click out of it, opting to look up the computer’s search history. My hand suddenly flies to my mouth, seeing everything he’s searched for the last six months. There are so many searches for my stepfather. His family history, criminal history, currently missing articles, etc. I close out of that and move on to the folders on the home screen. One of them is labeled “surveillance.” Within that folder is a sub-folder labeled “NW.” A sense of dread washes over me as I hesitate to open the folder. Choking that down, I move forward, double-clicking on the little blue folder.
It’s like all of the moisture is sucked from my mouth, and it’s suddenly filled with cotton. I am speechless. Frozen in place as I gaze upon images of myself in different parts of town. The coffee shop, the bookstore, The Bunker, my own home… These photos date back months, years even. He’s been watching me. There’s a video that catches my eye, so I opt to play it. It’s of the front of my house, angled down onto my porch. That’s odd. It’s set up like there’s a camera there, but I haven’t installed any cameras… As I watch the video, my face pales. I recognize the man creeping up my porch. It’s Ben…. but what is he—No. That can’t be.Ben was the one leaving the photos on my doorstep?
I am suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of how to process all of this. Closing out of the folder, I go to close the laptop until one last thing catches my eye. It’s a surveillance app. I double-click on it, wondering why he would need surveillance. Several camera views pop up as the app opens, and I gasp. My kitchen, my living room, my bedroom, and my porch, all staring back at me from the computer screen. I pull up the living room view and see myself from the back. I turn, trying to figure out where it’s coming from. I can’t believe this is happening. My palms begin to sweat, and my heart starts racing. Tears prick thebacks of my eyes, and my vision begins to tunnel. I need to get out of here. Now. I feel the beginnings of another panic attack happening, and I can’t have Dean knowing I’m awake. Forcing myself to slow my breathing, I try to stifle the panic attack before I lose control.In, two, three, out, two, three. In, two, three, out, two, three.
I walk back into my room quietly, grabbing an overnight bag and throwing some clothes inside. I peer over to the bed, gazing upon a sleeping Dean. My heart constricts, and the tears silently flow down my face. I hold back my sobs as I send Amelia a 911 text, letting her know I’ll be showing up to her house in about half an hour. She probably won’t see it, but just in case. I just need to get out of here for the night to get my thoughts together. I’ll come back tomorrow to take care of Simba.
Leaving the computer on the table, I head out the door. I get into my car and close the door behind me. For a second, I just sit there, staring out the windshield. Why am I so undeserving of happiness? Why am I always the unlucky one?What did I do to deserve this life?
It’s only when I’m in the car, heading to Amelia’s, that I finally let the dam break. I scream. I scream for the little girl who had her innocence stolen. I scream for the little girl who had to raise herself. I scream for the teenager who became comfortable with people turning their backs on her, and I scream for the woman who thought she found love. I scream so much and so loud that, eventually, I scream myself hoarse. What little hope I had for love, for happiness, is shattered. I am destined to walk this earth broken.
Once again, I’ve learned that you can’t break down your walls for anyone.
No matter what.
